


Professor Layton and the Apprentice's Anxiety

by emilytheoverlord



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilytheoverlord/pseuds/emilytheoverlord
Summary: Luke wakes from a nightmare and the Professor happens to hear. Cue the dad comfort and drawn out explanations for everything, because that's Layton.





	Professor Layton and the Apprentice's Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> I've only played through the first game in its entirety, so I only know bits and pieces of the later games. That's why like, none of that stuff is mentioned and everything is really vague, lmao. Also, this is VERY platonic. It's really a parent/child dynamic more than anything else; I don't really ship this. 
> 
> Leave me any feedback or fic suggestions if you want! I really appreciate everything you guys have to say. Thanks for reading!

Luke awoke and found himself panting for breath and covered in sweat, and then immediately proceeded to burst into tears. 

He was awake, yes, but the impulsive rush of nightmare adrenaline and terror remained even in consciousness, as though the dangers he encountered in his dream were threats to him even into the stillness and silence of his bedroom. He felt that fear course through his awake body and he shivered under his quilt, swallowing down his little whimpers and sobs as not to make too much noise. 

Logically, he knew what he'd just experienced was complete fiction, but he also knew for a fact that his anxieties were driven by real experiences, and that was perhaps more frightening than whatever he had encountered in his nightmare. 

Sure, he was in no imminent danger at the moment, but the number of near-death encounters he’d had in his young age were a little startling. And even then, maybe if it were only his danger, he would worry less. But this wasn’t just about him; it was about the Professor, and Flora, and anyone else they crossed paths with. The stakes here were not limited to his own safety, but everyone else’s as well. 

He wouldn't change it for anything, of course; there was no amount of risk that could pry him from the Professor’s side, and he knew he had chosen this lifestyle by becoming his apprentice. It was dishonorable to go back on a promise, and he had promised himself to assist Layton to the best of his ability, with steadfast enthusiasm and loyalty. 

Yet, like anyone would, he had his fears and doubts. There were mysteries they encountered that no one else wanted any part of, and often with compelling reason. He wondered, then, how far the Professor might go to find answers? To what end? 

He imagined that Layton would say something like, “A gentleman always seeks out the truth, even in the face of danger.”

But Luke was not yet an experienced gentleman, and though he sought out truth as eagerly as the Professor, the danger still weighed heavy on his endurance. Perhaps it also weighed on the Professor, he mused to himself, but if it did, he could hardly tell. He always seemed so capable, so ready, while in many instances Luke felt much the opposite. 

These thoughts, spiraling in his mind as jumbled, incomplete fragments, were interrupted by his dim bedroom lamplight cutting through the air. He jumped, shocked by the sudden light, then realized that someone had come in to turn it on. 

“Luke,” said the Professor, sounding like he himself had just woken up, but still somehow fully alert. His voice was warm and concerned, and Luke found this sincerity extremely grounding. “Luke, are you awake?”

He wondered why the Professor was in his room, or even awake at all, and quickly wiped his eyes and nose and swallowed back the urge to cry more. He was relatively unsuccessful. 

“Mhm…” he mumbled weakly, keeping his mouth shut to avoid stammering. Mumbling, however, was always rude, and he knew this. He took a deep breath and tried to speak. “What— what is it, Professor?” 

He sounded like an absolute dunce, voice shaky and unconfident like a small child. He knew the Professor was no idiot, and that he probably could tell he was crying from the moment he walked into the room if not sooner than that; however, he still did his best to hide his vulnerability, if only for his pride. 

“Ah. I woke a moment ago and heard you stirring; is everything alright?” The question was more rhetorical than anything else; it was obvious enough that everything was not alright, but he wanted to give Luke a place to explain himself on his own. He knelt at his bedside and placed a hand on his back to ease his breathing. 

“Nn… I-I don’t…” He fumbled under the pressure and coughed a little in his short, whimpery breaths. “It was a nightmare,” he finally said. “Just a childish thing…” 

The Professor had a feeling he might say something along those lines. He rubbed his back to calm him further, then began to speak in his hushed but firm tone. 

“Now, let's not jump to any hasty conclusions, my boy. Dreams, regardless of their content, rarely discriminate based on age. Tell me, do you imagine that I ever have frightening dreams when I sleep?” he asked, moving his hand to pet Luke’s hair. He hesitated slightly, wondering if it was the right thing to do, but was pleasantly surprised to feel Luke’s head lean back a little into his hand, nestling itself into the gesture. Content, he closed his eyes and smiled. 

Luke sniffled a little, then wiped his face on the blanket before having the blanket tugged out of his hands and replaced with Layton’s handkerchief, which he used gratefully. He didn’t speak until his face was dry.

“I… I suppose I can't say I’ve given it much thought…” he murmured, feeling rather silly. Of course adults had dreams. But did they frighten so easily? How could the Professor frighten when he always knew what to do? That seemed downright impossible. “Um, do you, Professor?” 

“Yes, and I would venture to say even the most noble of men and women would answer similarly.” He stared out Luke’s bedroom window, enjoying how clear the stars were against the black sky. “Doubts and anxieties are a fact of living at all stages of life. It’s a very human thing to experience.” 

Luke rolled over in his bed to face the Professor, and was a little relieved that he wasn't looking down at him. He was sure he looked like a mess since he had been tossing and turning in his sleep. He noted the calmness of Layton’s expression, dimly outlined by the moon’s white gleam falling in through the window, and exhaled.

“Then what’s one to do about it?” he asked. There was no avoiding danger, not when there were more important things to pursue. He knew this, but wondered how the Professor would cope with the same problem. The Professor seemed so sure of his choices, always deliberate and precise; so, Luke reasoned, he must have had some solution in mind. 

Layton paused to think, not yet sure how to articulate his thought process. Did he fear danger? Yes, certainly. More than anything, he feared harm of his loved ones. Especially because that harm would often indirectly come to them through his own choices and actions. And yet, he pressed onward with Luke and the rest, delving deeper into the often treacherous unknown. Why?

“Hmm. That’s quite the puzzle, isn’t it?” he mused aloud, still gazing out Luke’s bedroom window, eyes resting on the skyline of London. 

“Well Luke, here’s my answer,” he began after a few moments. “When a person is afraid, what do they want more than anything?” 

How characteristic of the Professor to answer a question with another question, thought Luke. 

“To not be afraid any longer?” he guessed, since that was what he wanted right now. Bravery and courage, in his mind, seemed to be what he lacked. If he could only pursue his beliefs without fear, then he might be more like the Professor.

“Well, yes, but it would be senseless to be fearless in the face of true danger. We can’t simply eliminate fear; try as one might, that bravery would be without substance. Caution is as much a virtue as courage, my boy.” He combed his fingers through Luke’s mussed up hair, unintentionally neatening it out. “So then, if danger causes fear and you can’t eliminate fear, what’s left to do?”

Luke pondered on this for a bit.

“Well, eliminate danger, but…” He frowned. 

“But what?”

“But that’s impossible, Professor…” 

“Have you exhausted every possibility, Luke?” 

“No… I suppose not. But there are too many possibilities to eliminate them all. It’s not like a puzzle where there are always only a few answers to choose from.” 

“Ah, but maybe it’s more like a puzzle than you might anticipate. What is it that we do together when you assist me?”

“Solve mysteries?”

“Yes. Of course I fear harm coming to you or any of my loved ones more than anything, Luke. But with each progressive mystery we solve, we eliminate some of the danger in the world. The truth, whatever it may be, can only aid me in protecting you and others, and myself. That is why I seek the answers to perplexing questions, and why I teach at the university: knowledge is the greatest protection one can hope for against danger. Because without knowledge, it’s as you said—there are far too many frightening possibilities.”

“But what if there are still too many unanswered questions for just us to take them on? Or questions we simply can’t answer? Like if there isn’t enough information?”

“I can’t definitively rule that out, I suppose. But with some persistence and some out-of-the-box thinking, I believe you’ll find—like we have found many times, together—every question has an answer. Sometimes it seems like there isn’t enough information, or there isn’t an answer at all. But then you search for hints, reassess your assumptions, change your perspective, and often the answer can be found where you’re least expecting.” 

Layton waited a moment for Luke to respond and looked down to find him asleep, satisfied-looking in his rest. He sighed, relieved, and got up to leave. He flicked off the desk lamp and made it to the doorway before he paused and looked back at the sleeping boy, then turned around and walked back. 

At his bedside, he bent down and gingerly lifted Luke, quilt and all, into his arms. He held him to his chest like a delicate object, not wanting to startle him awake again, then walked back to his own room in silence other than his footsteps and Luke’s breathing. 

He set him down on his own mattress and took a blanket and a book to his couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but he knew he would be able to sleep easier knowing that if Luke were to wake again, he wouldn’t be alone. He leafed through the book under the light of a dim lamp until he grew tired, then spared a last glance at the boy in his bed before finally retiring himself. 


End file.
